SWTOR: Grimsaar: Contraband
by Penance the Admonished
Summary: This is just a fanfic on my SWTOR smuggler character and his origins before the story arc of the game and I'm just trying to have a bit of fun writing from a non Force-user perspective. Please R&R! Suggestions and advice are appreciated!


_His name was Ravael Grimsaar. He was one of the best when it came to transporting valuable goods, some legal and some not-so-legal. He was what some might call, 'Flyboy', 'Hotshot', and 'scoundrel.' He relished these names because he lived for his work. He almost had no time for anything else…almost. _

Ravael is an orphan, doesn't have a family, never will. Most people called him 'shortstuff', 'kid', and 'swoop jockey' but Ravael didn't understand that last one. He lived on the rock farthest away from the bright center of the galaxy, if there was such a name. Some juma head named this place Ral'Tiir, which made it sound better than it actually was; the planet was terribly remote, complete with permacrete rocks and wide stretching deserts. The only thing interesting on this planet was the spaceports; big urban scapes, with ships, droids, aliens, or spacers as the locals called them, and of good smelling engine fuel. Ravael loved it all, and he also got paid every once in a while doing a weird job for some random pilot or crew. It only made sense they came to him though; he knew the Ral'Tiir underground better than anybody that is except for the people running it. The man running it was actually not even a man; her name was Nagamora. She was a Zabrak from some planet in the Mid Rim, but Ravael didn't have any astrogation charts to study. He only had the rags on his back and his knowledge, and sometimes he went to bed hungry for a few days.

Today Ravael sat on top of a pile of plasteel cylinders inside of Docking Bay Beta 2733 in Edrit, Ral'Tiir's biggest city. He munched on a dragon citrus, and flipped his slingshot a few times as he looked at the new _Dynamic_-Class freighter currently docked here. Beta 2733 was one of the moderate sized hangars, but it was Ravael's favorite. He loved the light stock freighters: could still fly as fast as a short range fighter, but could comfortably fit six, and travel across the galaxy in a few days. Ravael had never actually even stepped inside a ship. It may be hard to believe with him knowing so much about them but one day he was blow this juma stand and leave this rock behind.

Today was interesting, because he saw a human male at a kiosk grabbing some new tools. Ravael knew everyone who worked at the spaceport and this man was definitely an offworlder. He looked about thirty standard years of age, with thinning hair, thick leather over a tight Corellian flight suit. Bantha hide lined the interior of his boots and Ravael spotted a holdout pistol on the back of his belt.

Ravael spit out the pit of his citrus and tossed into the empty plasteel cylinder on his left. He climbed down from his throne and strode over to the man by the kiosk. He pretended to look at the bantha jerky that was hanging from the ceiling on some paracords. He didn't understand why the Duro running the stand had the jerky up, because this sector recently had an outbreak of Mad Bantha disease. The man cast a side glance at him, and gave the Duro his money and stepped away.

Ravael followed but not very closely; the man wasn't as tall as he originally thought. The man was making his way to _Huttese Sunrise_, the most popular cantina in this part of the city. Ravael had only been in there a few times but a few of the dancers loved seeing him, and he couldn't deny he enjoyed their company too. There was something about those lekku….

Ravael had duck behind a cargo cylinder when the man turned suddenly, looking around. He was looking over his shoulder and kept looking down as he walked. Ravael made sure to keep his distance and then the man suddenly disappeared. Ravael looked all over the square and was shocked to see that the man had indeed vanished. _Stang_ he said in his mind, and he made his own way to the _Huttese Sunrise_ and wondered if Berge the bartender would mind giving him some tauntaun milk.

Ravael never saw the man until the next day, in the marketplace with some of Nagamora's personal bodyguards. Ravael himself had been looking for something to nab from a kiosk or pickpocket a wealthy tourist, but when he saw Ewess and Utel, he figured this pilot guy must be in a lot of trouble. Ewess and Utel were twin Nikto who were not to be trifled with, and almost all of the Ral'Tiir underground knew it. They were incredibly ruthless and violent, their victims torn into pieces and then buried, scattered across the desert. When Nagamora wanted someone dead, Ewess and Utel always got the job.

Ravael found a comfy spot, hanging above the three sentients, in the sandtarps and as close to the conversation as he could be. He could hear Utel speaking in Huttese "…you didn't make your quota again Graptha. Nagamora doesn't like it when her employees don't make ends meet."

"You got that right," Ewess said in his thick voice, "We break legs. We break yours next." Ewess wasn't as fluent in the language as his brother, but he made up for it with brawn. The two thugs had the freight captain cornered, and had their rifles pinned on him, but the human's face was devoid of emotion. He had his hands help up to his shoulders and he kept them raised as the Nikto approached.

"What is it, Den?" Utel asked, laughing slightly. "You scared?"

"Scared?" the human said. His voice was deep but rather rugged, the way a shadowy man who sold spice might sound like. "No not really. Surprised actually."

"Surprised?" Ewess said, scrunching his face in thought. "Why he surprised?"

"Well Ewess, is the stench of you," the captain said again, "You smell like you been hanging around in pit of dead Jawas. Not that you smell much better Utel." He smirked at the aliens and Ewess growled. The human casually stretched and reached his right hand down to the back of his belt.

"Not so fast, Graptha." Utel said, putting the rifle nozzle to the human's temple. "Hand it over."

The man sighed and pulled out the blaster and put it in Ewess' extended hand, and the Nikto tossed into the garbage cylinder on his right. "Lucky for you, Nagamora wants you alive. Probably to torture ya."

"Y'know," the human said, "We don't get to visit too much boys. I really do miss you. Particularly you Ewess," he said with a wink.

Ewess share his sense of humor. He growled and hit the man in the face with butt of his rifle, but that was a mistake.

Ravael at that moment stood and snapped the wood holding up the tarp, and the tarp cascaded, and the pile of sand triumphed over the two Nikto as the human scrambled to safety.

_Huh, that was easy_ Ravael thought to himself as he climbed down. The sand pile had crushed the two thugs and one of their hands was visible poking out of the pile of white.

The captain scoffed and looked at the kid. "You've got guts kid," he said, brushing some sand off of his shoulder. "How old are you?"

"I'm nine," Ravael said, holding up nine fingers.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"Don't go to school." Ravael said easily.

"Why?"

"Don't need it."

"Huh. You're that smart, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Where are you parents, kid?" The man said looking around. He looked back and Ravael and looked him up and down. "Oh…" he paused, and Ravael must've figured he saw the rags Ravael called clothes. "I'm sorry."

Ravael looked down and ran a hand a through his long, unkempt, brown hair.

"You got a name?" he said, the uncertainty creeping into his tone.

Ravael looked up at the man as he scratched his head. "My name's Ravael Grimsaar."

"Well, Ravael, is there anyone expecting you home?" the pilot asked, folding his arms.

"Don't have one."

"I figured as much. You're a street urchin?"

"Yeah."

"So you would know a lot about Nagamora's operation, right?" he asked, pointing at Ravael.

"Mostly. I know that she must want you pretty desperately. You've only been here a day, and you've already got her two best guns after you."

"Huh." The man said. "Well do you have a safe house we can go talk in?"

"Safe house? You mean like a ship?"

"No not a ship. I'm saying a place where we can hide."

"A cantina? I've got a few of those."

"_You_ have a few cantinas?" the man said, cocking an eyebrow. "You seem a little young. But I don't care right now. Let's go."

Ravael and the pilot found themselves across town in _Yujun's Cantina_ over two glasses of Brinnstar fruit juice only minutes after the incident with the Nikto twins.

"Where is Nagamora's base?" the man said as he took a sip.

"Let's get one thing straight," Ravael said. "You want my help, you've gotta give me something in return."

"Fine," the pilot replied. "My name's Den Graptha by the way."

"That would have been something important to start with."

Den looked up from his drink and smiled at the boy. "Let me teach you something," he said as he slid his fruit juice to the side. "Never give your name out when you're in unfamiliar surroundings. Never. It's what you do to survive. Because that's what I do. I survive."

"What are you running from?" Ravael asked, his interest in the man tripling.

Den chuckled and took another swig of citrus. "You give me some info and I'll give you some."

Ravael hadn't been expecting this and he frowned. "Fine."

"That's more like it, kid." He said, flashing a smile again. "Now about Nagamora's base of operations…"

"It isn't here."

Den's smile vanished. "What do you mean?" he said, eyebrows furrowing. "It's not in the city? Somewhere in the desert?"

"Not here, as in not in the system." Ravael said as he put down his now empty glass.

"What do you mean?" Den said, his voice raising a little bit. "Look kid, I'm not one for pranks. Now tell me what I want to know."

"It isn't here. Trust me."

"Where then?"

"A place called Saythe," Ravael said. "I don't know where it is though, but maybe it is on the planet. I don't know very much about astrogation charts."

"Saythe," Den repeated absentmindedly, "Saythe…"

"Mean somethin' to you?"

"No, just tryin' to connect the dots. I've never heard of a place called Saythe…are you sure about this? I'm completely trusting you."

"I don't understand why though." Ravael said.

"Because I know you were following me yesterday. I know you want to get off this dejarik board of planet, fly in a ship and travel the galaxy."

"How did you-"

"I've been in your shoes before Ravael. I was orphaned at an early age and I had to fend for myself. I lived in the city by myself and I wanted nothing more to travel the stars. When I was ten, I was taken on by a merchant's ship and her crew. We traveled all over the Mid Rim; we visited Glee Anselm, Iridonia, Kashyyyk…we were cruising. I was the bin boy on the ship."

"Bin boy?" Ravael asked, confused.

"I cleaned the ship. And helped the Cook prepare the meals. I did that until I was around seventeen, and then I became the ship's navigator. And then at twenty-three I became first mate. Our captain was rather ruthless at first…she frankly scared the fierfek out of me."

Ravael had grown accustomed to adults swearing around him. In fact fierfek was not the worst he had heard. "Who was your captain?"

Den smiled as he downed the rest of his citrus. "You already know her," he said. "It was Nagamora."

_This will be a few chapters long so I hope some of you will enjoy this little fanfiction I've created…its main purpose is to help me create my character and understand who is. Please review and let me know what I can improve on! Suggestions are nice too. _

_-EternalFury_


End file.
